Would you do me the honour?
by The Feisty Rogue
Summary: Everyone knows that Bruce Wayne has proposed to Clark Kent. What they want to know now, is how?


"So," Dick said, throwing himself into the chair next to Bruce at the breakfast table, lounging in it as if it were a throne, and he was the king.

Bruce glanced at him over his paper, and then returned his attention to the article he'd been reading. He ignored Clark's muffled snort of amusement.

"Is that a ring?" Dick asked casually, as if three seconds previously he hadn't been gaping at the both of them. Bruce treated him to another glance, this time raising his brow. Dick gulped.

"Yes," Clark answered. "Do you like it?"

"YES!" Dick replied emphatically, as if not answering positively would result in grievous bodily harm. "It's beautiful."

"Glad you think so," Bruce said dryly. "Seeing as I'm the one that bought it."

There was a long moment of silence.

"Dude," Dick said. "Duude."

Bruce rolled his eyes.

"Congratulations!" Dick added hastily. "To the both of you."

Dick began shovelling cereal into his mouth, and Bruce hoped that would be the end of his questions. Then Dick paused, spoon of cheerios hovering in mid-air, a thoughtful expression upon his face. Bruce bit back a sigh.

"So… how did he do it?"

Bruce couldn't help but notice the tips of Clark's ears go pink out of the corner of his eye.

"Propose, that is," Dick clarified.

Bruce eyed Clark with trepidation. He'd agreed to let his fiancé handle this, in the post coital haze of their celebratory sex, and was regretting it as a wicked smile crossed Clark's lips.

"Well," Clark began. "Bruce called me over to Gotham early yesterday evening, saying he needed me urgently in the cave. I arrived moments later to find the power off… with only candles lighting the way in."

Bruce glared at Clark, and wished, not for the first time, that he was the one with the laser vision.

"I followed the path into the cave, and there stood Bruce, a dozen red roses clasped so tightly in his grip he'd crushed the stalks." Clark laughed. "He thrust them into my hands, and then bent onto one knee. 'Clark' he said. 'Will you do me the honour of becoming my husband?' And what could I say, but yes?"

Dick's smile was so wide it could rival the Joker's. "Beautiful. So romantic!" he said, and then continued to shovel more cheerios into his mouth at a frightening pace. Bruce crossed his arms, eyes narrowed.

"Don't say a word of that to anyone," he growled.

"Scouts honour!" Dick said, oblivious to Bruce's threatening undertones.

Bruce turned his glare back onto his fiancé. Clark winked at him. Bruce grunted, and sipped his coffee.

* * *

"NO WAY!"

Bruce winced, as Lois' exclamation could be heard even from where he was sitting, a few meters away from Clark, both of them working down in the Batcave.

"Yeah, I'm so happy," Clark said down the phone, blowing a kiss at Bruce, who flipped him the bird in return.

"You said yes, right? Tell me you said yes!"

"I said yes."

"YES!"

Clark chuckled.

"Congratulations! So, how did he propose? Did he get down on one knee? I need all the juicy details if you want me to run this story for you!"

"No roses," Bruce hissed at Clark as the other man opened his mouth to answer. Clark nodded, but the subsequent smirk didn't put any of Bruce's fears at ease.

"We were having our usual date night at La Traviolta, and Bruce ordered champagne, claiming we had something important to celebrate. I thought it was his successful takeover of Lexus Industries, but once I took a sip, I nearly choked – the ring was in my glass. Then Bruce reached over and took my hand, and said 'Clark, my love, will you do me the honour of becoming my husband?"

"Beautiful," Lois said. She cleared her throat. "Right. What did you both eat, and what vintage was the champagne? What was he wearing, where is the ring from, what were you wearing, send me a picture of the ring, okay, on your hand, preferably? I need answers to all of these questions… it's the perfect engagement story."

Clark grinned smugly.

"Almost too perfect actually…" Lois gasped. "Clark, you dog! You've just told me the story you'll tell the press!"

Clark winced, and Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose.

"There's a reason she'd the best investigative journalist the Planet has," Clark said, covering the mouthpiece of his mobile. Bruce was decidedly not reassured by that.

"Clark!" she called down the phone. "If you can't tell me the true story, that must mean it's something so depraved the papers can't print it… oh my god! He proposed mid-nookie, didn't he?"

"Lois," Clark said, a hint of Superman in his voice. "I'm not saying anything more than what I've told you."

"Fine."

"I'll email you the details later," he said, and hung up.

So quickly he must have used super speed, Clark was massaging Bruce's shoulders.

"She won't say anything," Clark whispered.

"Silence," Bruce growled. "Massage."

Clark snorted quietly, and continued to knead his shoulders. Bruce closed his eyes and buried his head in his hands so that he could hide the faint smile flickering about his lips.

* * *

"So, he just… proposed to you?"

Bruce paused outside the Watchtower's meeting room, and cocked his head. It sounded like either Barry, or Hal.

"Yes," Clark said, with a tired sigh that implied it wasn't the first time he'd had this conversation.

"But how?" It was definitely Barry.

"Well, we were having Chinese, and we'd just watched the season one finale of Downton Abbey on Netflix, and Bruce was inspired. He grabbed a prawn cracker and jammed it onto my finger. 'Will you do me the honour of becoming my husband?' he asked, and I said yes. We bought the ring later that day."

Bruce swallowed a bark of laughter, and chose that moment to stride into the room.

"How many of those stories have you told today?" he asked in Kryptonian.

"As many as I've been asked to tell," Clark said with a twinkle in his eye. Bruce fixed him with an unimpressed glare.

"You know I just think you look sexy when you do that," Clark said.

"You even have a secret language," Barry whispered. "So cool."

* * *

"Don't be ridiculous!" Diana snapped. "As if Bruce would get anyone, even Superman, roses."

"He told me!" Dick said. "Superman told me so himself!"

"Well he told me that Bruce arranged for fireworks to spell out the phrase 'would you do me the honour of becoming my husband?' in the night sky." J'onn said.

Oliver burst into laughter. "That's definitely not true. I don't think that's even possible with the fireworks we have on earth."

"And none of this matches with the story in the paper," Barry said with a sigh, turning away from the Watchtower computers.

Arthur slammed his trident into the floor. "We must get to the bottom of this mystery! Why, Clark told me that Bruce left the box upon his pillow, with a note with just a single question mark upon it."

The team fell silent.

"That is actually something Bruce would do…" Diana said, staring into the distance. "After all, he told me that Bruce proposed on a beach, but he hasn't even had a chance to leave Gotham, he's been so busy."

"Indeed, Batman is a man of very few words," J'onn agreed.

"No!" Dick exclaimed. "I refuse to believe it." He stormed out of the room.

"Ah, the innocence of youth." Oliver chuckled, leaning back so that his chair was balanced on just two legs.

"You know…" Hal said, with narrowed eyes. "You've not actually told us what Clark told you."

Oliver smirked. "That's because I wasn't stupid enough to ask."

Hal kicked the chair out from under him, but Oliver rolled with the fall and moved seamlessly to his feet.

"God damn ninjas," Hal muttered.

"Why didn't you ask?" Diana demanded.

Oliver shrugged. "Bruce is intrinsically private, especially about his personal life, and Clark recognises that. I suspect that no one knows the true story." He grinned. "And honestly, I doubt anyone actually wants to know it."

"I do not understand," Diana said.

Oliver glanced up at the camera in the corner of the room, and winked at it.

Bruce rolled his eyes, and pushed away from the monitor desk to lean back against his fiancé.

"Olly's onto us," he said.

"Mm," Clark replied, tracing a line of kisses down the side of Bruce's neck in a very distracting manner. Bruce sighed and allowed himself a momentary smile, remembering the proposal, the both of them naked and sweaty and satisfied, nothing between them but the small lead lined box that definitely hadn't contained Kryptonite, Clark's astounded smile, and resulting round of enthusiastic sex.

"I want you to know," Clark whispered. "That no matter how you ask me, I will always do you the honour of becoming your husband."


End file.
